


When You Don't Answer

by mmmdraco



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: M/M, Necrophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-28
Updated: 2012-07-28
Packaged: 2017-11-10 22:29:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/471398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mmmdraco/pseuds/mmmdraco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He said nothing, so that was a yes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When You Don't Answer

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own the characters, I mean no harm, I have no money... Stuff like that. Yeah.

We'd just had a big fight, so I was on my way to apologize. To him, you see: my often silent and strong, beautiful boyfriend. I used our normal way of apologizing, just like I always did.

"Heero, can I apologize?" He said nothing, so that was a yes.

"I'm sorry for being a jerk earlier. I didn't mean to accuse you of lusting after Zechs Merquise." He didn't reply, so I knew he agreed. It was part of what we did, you see.

"If you'll forgive me, I want to make love to you." Not a damned word. It was our game, so I never thought a damned thing about it.

That night, I stripped down and slipped between the sheets with him. He was already nude, and warm to the touch. His body yielded under mine. His legs parted easily, his back was already arched as I pressed against him. My usual prep time was cut in half as his body accepted all that I could give it, spreading and just...yielding.

When I entered him, I gasped, hearing him echo my sentiments. It was a delicious joining, profound in the sensation.

He was a thing for me to use that night, a body for me to enter and fill with my seed. I loved every moment.

And he never said a word. The sounds he made were the ones I made. Or, so I thought.

He was open wide for me and I was likely bruising him with my slamming thrusts, but he never tensed up, never moved away, so I kept at my pace. It all took place in the dark.

I slept inside him that night. My cock was lodged inside him, surrounded by my cooling seed. He had a preference of touching himself to come, so I never attempted it for him. Not that night, not ever. I asked him if it was okay and he didn't answer. I thought it was still the game we played. It was okay. Surely, it was.

In the morning, when I woke up, I was still in him, hard, and the morning felt cold.

Thrust after thrust after thrust, and I'd come again. He didn't move. His body, I realized afterward, wasn't warm anymore. The morning wasn't cold, but he was. His skin was pale. I pulled out of him and he didn't close.

I felt myself retch and I turned him over and his eyes were open, glassy, and I knew. He was dead. He never said a word because he couldn't. The sounds I thought he made to echo mine were just that... echoes.

With nothing in my stomach but fear and thoughts of my own obvious depravity, I retched and vomited bile onto the bedclothes until my stomach was empty but for that fear and that depravity. I was still heaving up chocking coughs and the last remnants of my stomach when Quatre called us for breakfast. "Duo, Heero, we're having bacon and eggs. Come on down."

My stomach found more to lose and I fell to the floor, dry heaving and beginning to cry; a dead man in my bed--my dead boyfriend in our bed.

It was only half an hour later or so, after Quatre called us for breakfast twice more, that he came into the room and saw the scene.

And he never said a word. Silence meant permission. With us, it did. But, did that give me the right to molest his body which couldn't protest?

They still don't know how he died, and I know I didn't kill him, but I can't help but wonder... could it have been better it he could speak or is my depravity that innate?

I wish he could speak still. I'm sure he'd tell me. And, if silence means acceptance, I'll keep talking.


End file.
